Saturday, February 23, 2013

Ruk jana nahin

It’s a Saturday in your sister’s house in town away from home where you’ve been living and working for a while now. You are used to it, the place, the people, the people at work, the work, the water which tastes seriously different from the one you grew up drinking. Saturday meant there would be a Hindi movie on the telly and you hope they’ll show something decent. You haven’t gone to see anyone, you look out the grilled window on the first floor and the streets are empty. There’s a water pump to the right where periodically there are fights among the people who come for it from the slum nearby. The programme on agriculture is over and your sister calls out to you to come watch the movie. There’s only her and another lady with her daughter. She knows the language so she can translate the tough bits. The movie starts with this song which you’ve heard as a kid on the radio, on the Phillips Major back in your home town. It takes you back to the dusty roads, the cool breezy mornings, the water, the house with the railway line way over in the back. It was one of those trains that you used to see that brought you here to this town.

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